Debutante Ball
by Roruna
Summary: Lord Ramkin throws a ball for his young daughter, Sybil and a certain watchman crashes the party. Sorta AU, SamxSybil fluff. Enjoy. Oh, the quote at the end is from Guards! Guards!


**Debutante Ball**

_Author's note: I thought this was a really cute idea. No need to take it too seriously. But bear in mind, in another universe. This did happen. D_

_I don't own anyone or anything of Discworld._

* * *

Sybil was not enjoying the preparations for her debut. She didn't enjoy balls. When she was little, she found it terribly boring to watch the grown ups stand around talking and very occasionally dance. She thought it was terribly presumptuous that just because she was a 'young lady' now, she was supposed to feel different. She had read books where the heroine would attend some ball and fall in love. It was a very… romantic idea, she supposed but she felt those books were often lacking in displays of what true love was supposed to look like. It was just a couple of people acting soppy to her.

But she went along with it because it was what was Done and her father was very insistent that Sybil have a proper ball like the one he had attended when he met Sybil's mother. He never went into detail about what happened at her mother's debutante ball, the only thing he did say was that they danced and after a few months they were married. There was no mention of their eyes meeting across the crowded room or anything like what was described in the books Sybil read. Balls, Sybil concluded, were probably a lot like Hogswatch. There are stories about how they _should_ go but that is never how they _actually _go.

There were so many things to be nervous about. Some of her classmates would be there but mostly it would be attended by her father's friends and some foreign diplomats. It was supposed to be her party and there wasn't one person on the guest list that she actually wanted to see. The only thing that she had managed to control was that she convinced her father that it should be a masquerade ball. She found the idea of masks to be rather interesting but she had put her foot down when her father had suggested that she dress as an angel.

* * *

Vimes was the only one still in mourning. It was hard to notice at first since he was a rookie; the Watch wasn't sure if he was just naturally quiet or if Sergeant Keel's death had affected him so much. But he still had a sprig of lilac on his uniform and would spend his breaks staring at nothing. He had lost his hero and the closest thing to a father he had. He didn't cry though or carry on at all. He just went really quiet and cold. It really was a stroke of luck when Nobby came went to the watch house one evening with an invitation to a posh party.

Some questions swam in Vimes' mind when the little urchin showed the invitation _with real gold foil on the edges_ to him and Sergeant Colon. He waited to see if Sergeant Colon would ask. He was the sergeant after all. While he waited, he read the invitation. It was addressed to the Duke of Sto Lat.

_Lord Ramkin _

_requests the pleasure of your company_

_at a masquerade ball in honor of _

_Sybil Deidre Olgivanna_

_Saturday, the eighth of June_

_at eight o'clock in the evening _

_Ramkin Residence_

_Scoone Avenue_

_Ankh-Morpork_

Vimes passed the invitation to Sergeant Colon. He still hadn't asked. Vimes couldn't wait anymore. "Nobby… how did you get this invitation?" Nobby seemed to think about this for a moment. "It fell of the mail coach." Lance-Constable Vimes and Sergeant Colon looked at each other then at Nobby. Nobby smiled innocently up at them. They shrugged, it really hadn't mattered how he got it, had it? Sergeant Colon turned the invitation over in his hands. "I think we should go. It might be fun." Nobby nodded enthusiastically.

Vimes looked at his sergeant and the street urchin with disbelief. Then he smiled excitedly, also quite ironically. "Hey yea. That sounds like something…" His smile changed to a glare. "I'd never be caught dead at." Nobby took the invitation back from Sergeant Colon. "Well, I'm still going even if you aren't. I ain't passing up a chance for free food." He put his hands on the lapels of his very large coat. "Who knows, I might even land meself a deb-you-taunt."

Sergeant Colon gave Nobby a look of skepticism. Vimes just shook his head. Nobby glared at them. "Wass the matter? You don't think I could pass for a nob?" Vimes snorted, for two reasons then said. "Please, you can't even pass for human." Sergeant Colon nodded sagely. "'e's got a point. Even if it is a maskerade, I think you'll have trouble getting in." Colon looked at Vimes and patted his shoulder. "We should go with him and make sure he keeps out of trouble. He's going to go anyway."

Vimes looked at Sergeant Colon for a long time. Was he really asking for Vimes' permission? That was crazy; Colon was the sergeant, not Vimes. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. How much trouble could they get into at some dull old ball anyway? At least there'd be free food. It wasn't as if they'd have to dress up either. They could say their uniforms were their costumes, except for Nobby who would probably have to pose as the Duke's pet monkey.

* * *

The night of the ball was warm and the air smelled of flowers… at least around Scoone Ave. Vimes was still uneasy about crashing a posh ball but he still polished his breastplate the whole afternoon. It actually shined. His mum had told him to be home by midnight when he said that he was going to a ball. Then the fear of all those fairytales hit him all at once. Not that that sort of thing ever happens in real life but… what if it did? Or worse, what if some girl thought it should. He managed to calm himself by reminding himself that he had enough trouble with girls of his social standing and would probably be totally invisible to the nobs.

Sybil spent most of the afternoon being squeezed into her ball gown. The corsetry had pushed the air out of her lungs long ago. She had gotten used to the restraint by the time the sun had set. After seven o'clock, she was finally completely ready. Her hair was done up and held with a lavender ribbon with silver embroidery. She wore pearl earrings and a matching necklace. Her gown was off the shoulder and lavender with silver edging. Sybil was shocked to discover that for the first time, she had a figure. At least in the gown, thanks to the wonders of corsetry. She stared at her reflection for a long time. She was looking at someone else in the mirror, she was sure of it.

She walked slowly out of her room. From the top of the stairs, she could see the servants were making the final preparations for the ball and her father was leaning over the railing watching pensively. He turned to look at Sybil and pinched one of her cheeks gently. He smiled but rather sadly. "You look so much like your mother." Sybil looked down and smiled as well. When she looked up again, her father was smiling more happily. "You know, no matter how old you get. You'll still be my little girl." He hugged Sybil tightly then. They broke apart as the doorbell rang. The guests were starting to arrive and at eight o'clock Lord Ramkin would lead Sybil down the steps and introduce her to high society.

* * *

Vimes, Colon and Nobby met at Treacle Mine Road and bickered as they walked the street, they walked as far away from each other as they could as they crossed the Misbegot Bridge then went back to bickering as they turned onto Scoone Ave. Somehow the bickering was about who the duke would be. Nobby insisted it should be him since he was the one who found the invitation in the first place. Colon and Vimes ignored this; they were each trying to convince the other that he should be the duke.

"Sarge, I really think you should be the duke."

"Not me, I'm as common as muck. You look more... posh than me."

"I do not!"

"Ok you do not. All you need is some straw in the right places and you could be a scarecrow but you got a better vocabulary than me. You could actually _talk_ to them."

"You look like you eat well enough, I don't."

"I'll be the duke! I'll be the duke!" Nobby hopped up and down waving his sleeves.

Colon and Vimes tried to stare each other down. Colon caved first. He coughed and rummaged through his pockets. "How about we flip a coin? Winner gets to choose." Colon found a penny and tossed it in the air. "Call." Vimes looked up. "Heads." The coin hung in the air turning slowly for what felt like an eternity. This could very well have been one of those moments when the Trousers of Time split and one could end up going down the wrong leg. It landed on tails. (1) Vimes groaned as Colon started to swagger. "Looks like you're the duke, Vimesey."

(1) There is no universe where it landed on heads. Isn't that strange?

* * *

It took some convincing of the butler when they arrived at the house, but Nobby was allowed in once Vimes swore that he was indeed house-broken. After they had all selected from the masks that were laid out for the guests, Nobby made a beeline for the buffet table, leaving Vimes and Colon at the door. They followed after him reluctantly. Well, maybe not reluctantly. These boys had not been raised to frown on food. (2) They were actually able to get several pieces of shrimp in their mouths before the clock struck eight.

This is the moment when a piano, harp or violin would have played a slow, romantic ballad and Vimes would have been at the bottom of the steps as Sybil walked down in slow motion. So there was a subconscious groan in the idealistic part of Vimes' brain when he realized that he still at the buffet table. The striking of the clock had startled Colon and he spilled a glob of dipping sauce on a Klatchian diplomat. Some protective instinct took over Vimes as he took it upon himself to help the man clean himself off. After making the stain larger but more muted, Vimes dragged Colon and Nobby away from the table.

"I knew this was a bad idea…" Nobby waved his hand dismissively… probably, it was so hard to tell with that coat. "Nah, it was a little accident. Could happen to anyone." Vimes was about to lead them to the open bar and thought better of it. Colon and Nobby with a few drinks in them was probably not going to improve matters. He led some large portrait several of the guests were looking at. "Stay here. _Don't_ touch anything." He'd just have a drink or two. It would probably do him good to relax. It had just been a little accident and if no one had noticed they weren't nobs when they came in, no one would.

By the time he had reached the open bar, he was quite convinced that the best way to keep Colon and Nobbs out of trouble was to calm his nerves with a nice drink. The bar tender bowed when Vimes reached him. "What will his grace be having?" Vimes turned around to see who the man was talking to then he remembered he lost the coin toss. Vimes was his grace. He looked back to the bar and all the bottles that lined the wall.

Most of the bottles had funny foreign names and he couldn't even begin to understand what was actually in them. They said thinks like liqueur, cognac, and amaretto. Eventually he saw one he could actually read: whiskey. He wasn't familiar with the brand but at least he knew what whiskey was. "I'll have a whiskey thanks." The bar tender took the bottle and served it in a short glass before handing it to Vimes. He took a cautious sip. It burned his tongue and throat. It wasn't bad. He had another.

(2) But they were learning to be cautious of anything Mr. Dibbler sold.

* * *

The ball was going well enough. It was just like any other ball she had ever been to. All the grown ups were standing around sipping their drinks making mindless chitchat and would only occasionally look at her or ask her a question. Some people were dancing but not many. Not that there was anyone here she really wanted to dance with. She already knew every boy or young man in attendance so the odds locking eyes with some mysterious young man and dancing the night away in fairytale bliss were pretty minimal.

She excused herself and walked outside to the side of the house where her father had insisted that she keep her little swamp dragon, Rochester I, Earl of Ankh. She took a deep breath of the lilac scented air and felt herself calming down. In a few hours, this silly ball would be over and she'd be free of this _evil_ corset. She noticed a dark figure hunched forward in the shrubbery and heard some muffled groaning and some… splashy sound.

She took a step to him and coughed politely. The figure made a noise that Sybil had only ever heard her swamp dragon make and pulled himself upright unsteadily. He wiped his mouth with his hand muttering to himself. "If I never drink again it would be too soon…" Sybil suddenly understood. She pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to the young man when he turned to face her. He muttered again, probably a thank you and wiped his nose and mouth with it. He was about to hand it back to her when she shook her head. "Why don't you just hold on to that?"

He nodded slowly and stuffed the used hanky in his pocket. They both seemed to avoid each other's eyes and shifted uneasily. Eventually the young man spoke again. "Nice er… party..." Sybil snorted. "It's dreadful. It's boring and it's exactly like any other… I'm Sybil." Sybil held out her hand and the young man took it with a nod. He shook her hand instead of kissing it. "I'm Sam." He shut his eyes tightly and muttered a curse to himself.

Sybil took her hand away and looked at him curiously. "Is… something wrong?" Vimes shook his head slowly and tried to smile. "No… uh, nothing. Nothing is wrong with me, Sam, duke of Sto Lat…. Nothing whatsoever." Sybil decided to be merciful. "I suppose something you _ate_ didn't exactly agree with you. Maybe a nice walk would help." Sybil put her arm around Vimes' arm and led him in a slow walk around the estate grounds. They walked in silence.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go, was it? Vimes wondered to himself. They were supposed to meet inside at the ball, not outside in the shrubs while he wretched. They were supposed to dance, in front of everyone not walk outside where there wasn't a living soul. Then the clock was supposed to strike twelve and… well, it was just as well. He couldn't afford to lose a boot. Though if they were going to throw narrative convention to the wind, they could at least try to have a conversation and it have to be a real one.

"So… if you don't like balls, why are you having one?"

"Well… that's just how things are done. I am now, a _woman_, ready to be married and this ball is to advertise that. Either at this ball or in the very near future, I will meet the man I'm supposed to marry."

"Sounds like fairytale stuff."

"Where do you think whoever wrote fairytales got the idea? Balls have always been for the right type of boy to meet the right type of girl. But there usually isn't any of that eyes meeting across a crowded room and violins playing."

Sybil stopped walking suddenly. Did she really just say that? She wasn't supposed to say things like that. She wasn't even supposed to _think_ things like that. She was supposed to believe in the romance wasn't she? She was supposed to hope for the violins and the crowded room and the dance. But she knew things like that don't really happen. Well, maybe they do but not to her. Not to Big Girls. Big Girls don't get romance or knights in shining armor. They get silly men who tolerate them because they're rich or practical or safe. Men don't fall for Big Girls, they _settle_ for Big Girls.

Sybil bit her lip and took a slow breath. She closed her eyes slowly, trying to stay calm. She was trying to summon all her Big Girl practicality and will herself not to cry. Don't be soppy. You'll just wind up looking like a fool. Pretty girls can afford to be soppy because they look pretty doing it. Big Girls just look foolish, she reminded herself.

Vimes watched her feeling completely wretched. He was pretty sure he hadn't said anything to make her feel bad but he did have to ask a real question didn't he? He couldn't just make mindless chitchat, no. He moved to face her and was surprised to see she wasn't crying. He had expected her to be crying. She did look upset but she wasn't crying. She looked up at him. They watched each other for a long time. Eventually Sybil smiled a little causing Vimes to blush.

He could hear his internal Nobby and Colon jumping up and down coaxing him to seize this moment. They kept saying 'kiss 'er, kiss 'er!' So she wasn't exactly a great beauty, he wasn't much to look at either but she had the sweetest smile he'd ever seen and it was just for him. Sybil laughed softly and touched his arm gingerly. "Maybe I'm being too quick… but I do like you, you know." Vimes smiled nervously, awkwardly more like a teenage boy. Not, at all, like a duke. He shut his mind off the all thoughts, leaned forward and kissed Sybil on the lips.

It was a little awkward and unsure. It was nervous and very shy. Vimes and Sybil closed their eyes and that was all. They didn't throw their arms around each other and they kept their mouths closed. Vimes didn't dip Sybil and Sybil's foot didn't pop up. It was their first kiss after all. There was no need for the world to melt away because they were already alone. There were no fireworks, well not literally. There was that metaphorical spark but it was just a small spark. It popped instead of burned and when the broke apart there were no applause and they were still they same people they were before the kiss.

But they did feel a little more grown up now. Not much, just a little. They smiled timidly and couldn't keep their eyes off each other now. Vimes was about to say something. He never got a chance to say it because he heard the Teacher's Guild clock start to strike midnight and forgot exactly what it was he was going to say anyway. He shut his eyes tightly and cursed again. "I have to go. My mum wanted me home by now." He ran back toward the house, jumping over some shrubbery that blocked his path.

He looked around the ball room for Colon and Nobby and found that they had migrated back to the buffet table. He ran part of the way to them and skidded the last few feet to them. He grabbed each one by an arm and started to run again. "C'mon!" Neither Nobby nor Colon made any objection and trotted close behind him. They were out the door in a few seconds and no one lost their boot.

* * *

Since no one lost their boot, Sybil had no excuse to look for Sam and she knew perfectly well that he wasn't the duke of Sto Lat because there was no way he got such a thick Morporkian accent from just a few visits. That did get her hopes up, it meant that he was from Ankh-Morpork and in time she'd see him again. She didn't exactly look for him though. Some days, she and her father would be out around town and she'd catch a glimpse of some guard and for a moment she was sure it was him but it never was.

Over time, she thought of him less and less but she didn't forget him completely because it had been her first kiss and a girl doesn't forget her first kiss. Sometimes the memory would creep into her brain usually when her classmates talked about boys that were courting them. But as she got older, the occasion for the memory to creep up because less frequent. Her friends got married and she didn't. She went out a few times with men of her social standing and sometimes got kissed by them but she didn't feel the same. She couldn't say that she had fallen in love with the first boy that kissed her but she remembered liking him more than anyone else she met.

* * *

The days… well, nights following the ball were rather uneventful for Vimes. He didn't tell Colon, Nobby or anyone else what happened but he did cherish the memory. He liked kissing Sybil and he knew that she liked it too, and him. He was even able to summon up the courage to walk to Scoone Ave one evening. He watched the outside of the house for a long time and hid in the shrubbery when he saw a coach go into the Ramkins' driveway.

He couldn't tell who stepped out of the coach and went into the house but he did recognize the man when he went back out with Sybil. It was Captain Rust. Vimes would recognize that damned voice anywhere. He and Sybil were talking and Sybil laughed politely. They got into the coach and the coach drove away. Vimes closed his eyes and sighed. "Sam, you're kidding yourself. You and Sybil… you don't have any future together. You weren't even supposed to have a kiss together. It was a fluke." He stepped out of the shrubbery and walked slowly back to the Morpork side of the river.

* * *

_"Apart from wizards," said Vimes firmly. You couldn't trust wizards. They were even worse than civilians._

_Colon thought about it. "There's always Lady Ramkin," he said. "Lives in Scoone Avenue. Breeds swamp dragons. You know, the little buggers people keep as pets?"_

_"Oh, her," said Vimes gloomily._

* * *

_Author's note: just wanted to include a quote at the end to cheer myself up, you know? Well, _I _thought it was a good way to close things._


End file.
